


Interrogation Room Porn

by Cards_Slash



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Handcuffs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash/pseuds/Cards_Slash
Summary: obviously we are not trying hard with the title.Set in S1E5, Doc invites himself into the interrogation room where Bobo is so obediently allowing himself to be handcuffed to a table.  Then he enacts a little bit of revenge.
Relationships: Doc Holliday/Bobo Del Rey | Robert Svane
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Interrogation Room Porn

Perhaps if Deputy Marshal Dolls did not want people to simply walk into his ultra secret Black Badge headquarters he should not have installed it into a remarkably accessible public building. The law enforcement officers of this particular town were either so busy or so disinterested in their jobs that they did not even to the sight of him striding past them on his way to Dolls commandeered section of the building.

The door was not even properly secured against unwanted entry.

There was not even the lingering smell of Wynonna left hanging in the main room. In fact, the only smell at all was the healthy taste of sweat in the overheated air. It was pungent enough that it followed him half down a dimly lit hallway that led back into interrogation rooms. Or at least what passed for such a thing in this minimally effective justice building. 

As he had come to understand (from being very recently interrogated in these very rooms) there was one room for _observing_ and one room for interrogating. Doc took the precaution of opening the door to the observation room and found it happily empty. There was a screen that was showing a repeating image of Bobo lounging comfortably on the uncomfortable chair they had left him in. With his head tipped back and his shoulders loose as they were, someone might have thought he was simply bored of waiting.

Certainly, they wouldn’t have suspected that not even a full fifteen minutes ago he’d been paraded in through the front doors in handcuffs. Even that was a sight to behold, considering what they all knew about the man. (Namely that he was a demon.) It was almost comically obedient, watching Bobo allowing himself to be pulled gruffly along.

It was nothing at all like the man who had so recent wrapped his fingers around Doc’s throat to hold him still against a warping metal wall. Nothing like Bobo’s voice as wet as hot coffee, sliding up his face like a tongue, and the insult of his laugh biting into Doc’s still tingling flesh.

Still, Doc was simply not a person who could let a good opportunity pass him by.

\--

Bobo had been waiting on the door to open. He’d been playing out scenarios, plotting out possible outcomes, perfecting conversations that he couldn’t hope to control in his head. While he had been _betting_ on Wynonna to be the first person through the door, he couldn’t quite bring himself to be _surprised_ that it wasn’t.

If he was caught off guard to see Henry standing there, it was only because Bobo hadn’t been aware the man was even in the building. Much less that he was close enough with Deputy Marshal Dolls to have access to this particular room. (Although, knowing Henry it was very possible he was close enough to Wynonna to have access to all manner of things.) 

“What a _good_ look for you,” Henry said, all long-and-slow. One of his hands was resting on top of his guns and the other was pushing the door closed with the tips of his fingers. 

“Are you still upset about that?” 

Henry might not know much about modern things, but he knew enough to make his first action in the room slipping that oversized knife out of its sheath on his belt to cut the wires that connected the camera back to the monitor in the other room. 

“You could have unplugged it,” Bobo said. He dropped his leg from where he’d been resting it on the corner of the table. He was sitting up a little higher but putting no effort into looking any more presentable. 

Henry's smile was as sharp as the blade of his knife as he secured it back in place. He wasn’t looking at Bobo, exactly but he wasn’t not looking at him. No, he was taking his time about figuring out his next step because he had all the time in the world. Rather than address anything that Bobo had said, he raised a hand to tap the metal shutter hanging over the window. His knuckle rapped against it to emphasize the point of his words: “You haven’t done anything about this?”

“It’s not bothering me,” Bobo said, “is it bothering you?”

“Not at all.” Henry did turn to face him then. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his shoulders were pressed back against the window behind him so his body slanted down and out, from breastbone to hip bone drawing all attention down the length of his buttons to the buckle of his belt. His fingers were hooked into the gun belt so his arms were hanging with the pretense of laziness. “I recall hearing, _very recently_ that my so-called sluttish nature prohibits me from exercising sound judgement. That I am so--how _was_ it phrased? Something terribly witty if I recall…”

“Did I hurt your feelings?” That _had_ been the point. Or at least the point had been that Bobo didn’t care about Henry’s feelings. Regardless of his fondness for the man’s body, and the mutually beneficial arrangement between them, he didn’t care about Henry. 

“I am merely here to test the hypothesis that you have put forth. As you can see, we are in a location that is _most_ unsuitable for any sort of lecherous display. A man would have to be, as I have heard it put very recently, _gagging_ for it to even _dream_ of engaging in any acts of a sexual nature in this room. Why,” he lifted an arm only long enough to gesture at the door, “any second that door could open and _anyone_ could walk in.”

That must have been why Henry had walked in here to start with. “I cannot be the first person to call you a whore, Henry.”

“But you _are_ the first person to call me such while taking advantage of my remarkable sexual skill and my generous nature.” He wasn’t even doing anything; he was just standing there looking satisfied with himself. 

He was working off an implication, offering nothing at all but the memory that if Bobo hadn’t opened his mouth and said something _stupid_ there _would_ have been an offer. That maybe Henry’s lazy hand would have done more than brush across the buttons of his vest. Bobo had watched the man thumb those buttons loose so often, he could almost fill in the blanks himself. 

Henry only needed to touch his fingers to them, and Bobo was imagining how it felt to run his hands down Henry’s long body with nothing between the tips of his fingers and Henry’s skin but some paper-thin shirt he’d stolen off a washline. Just the sound of Henry’s breath catching and the part of his lips and Bobo couldn’t stop himself from remembering the last time he’d had him.

It was terrifying, how shameless Henry was. How easily and quickly and completely he responded to being touched. It didn’t matter if Bobo was stroking his skin or slapping it, Henry’s dirty smile was always there. Fond-and-filthy and followed up with the taste of his tongue slipping into Bobo’s mouth.

“Of course I am also a forgiving man.”

“You want an apology, you can wait an hour. I won’t be here any longer than that.”

Henry did move then, rolling away from the window and crossing the short distance in a single step so his legs were brushing along the inside of Bobo’s spread thighs. His hands curved into the shape of Bobo’s shoulders, slipping through the thickest part of the fur collar until they were gripping the chair behind his back. His face was close enough to see every imperfection on his perfect face and his breath was near enough to taste those cigarillos he couldn’t give up. 

“I don’t want anything from you that I cannot get elsewhere,” Henry said like a kiss. His lips and the ticklish ends of his mustache brushing against Bobo’s mouth as he spoke. He didn’t linger a breath longer than it took to say them. 

\--

Doc did not anticipate being allowed to stand but that did not make him _enjoy_ the hand that grabbed him by the ass. It didn’t make him _happy_ to be pulled forward with such force that it was only a matter of luck and counterbalance that kept him from falling into Bobo’s lap. And when Doc did not do what he was _expected_ to do, Bobo used that grip on his ass to pull himself up to standing. 

Those five fingers digging into the meat of Doc’s ass were the same five fingers that had been wrapped around his neck not so many days ago now. The very same thumb that had stroked the line of his jaw as this very same mouth growled very similar words at him. “Then why are you here?”

That was the simplest question he’d ever been asked. And it had the most _obvious_ answer that Bobo had already been stupid enough to overlook once. Some things could not be said concisely with words but could very easily be expressed with action. Doc pulled Bobo’s hand off his ass (with more ease than anticipated) and pulled it until it was between their bodies. He cupped his hand around the back of Bobo’s and wriggled their hands into the overheated space between them. It was Bobo’s own hand that pressed against the length of his own hard cock. His fingers, his palm that made his breath stutter as his eyelids flutter. 

“If you wanted it so bad, you could just ask,” Bobo said as he ran his tongue across his lips. His half-opened eyes were focused on Doc’s mouth as he pressed into the curve of his own palm. It must have felt like heaven just then, with how Bobo’s cheeks pinked up. 

“Oh I imagine that is what you would believe,” Doc answered back. He lifted his hand off Bobo’s so he could shove him back into the chair. The handcuff jingled and pulled to the side, adding a pointless reminder of where _exactly_ they were. 

Pointless because it didn’t matter and pointless because the metal shutter that had been open all this time rattled and screamed as it pulled down. A little bit of metal fashioned into a cuff wasn’t going to stop Bobo. Keeping it on as long as he had was as much about a show of mortal obedience as allowing Dolls to yank him into the building had been.

That proved that Bobo _understood_ the concept of humility. 

Doc followed the fall of Bobo’s body. He coiled his fists into Bobo’s ugly coat like a handhold, so he could slide along the length of his thin thighs with a roll of his hips that looked and _felt_ a lot like something they were known to do with their clothes off. And his voice was coming out of somewhere in the base of his chest, so far down it might as well have been from his gut. 

Bobo’s fingernails were scratching down the front of his clothes, catching on buttons and little thread pulls. He turned his wrist when he hit Doc’s belts, pushed his fingers down into the narrow muggy space between their bodies.

“Just like this,” Doc said over Bobo’s rumbling groan. He could feel the tremble in his body. It took a terrible lust to make a man start to shiver but here they were. “Maybe,” he slid back as Bobo tried to catch him by the belt and managed nothing but to scratch across the old leather. “Like this?”

Doc sat back in his lap, with his knees spread around Bobo’s. His back was to the man’s chest, curved over the mound of fur caught between them. He tipped his head back as he dropped his hands down to grip the edge of the seat not taken up by Bobo’s legs. When he rocked his hips, Bobo moved with him, making the chair legs lift and drop in a quickening rhythm. 

“But,” he sat up straight again, balanced on Bobo’s thighs, far enough from his cock that it made him growl in frustration. “We must consider the image this would present to anyone who might happen to open that door. While I am a man who has come to terms with his own sexuality and sexual preferences there are many who might not be so enlightened. It would be _foolish_ to put myself in such unnecessary danger.” 

“ _Henry_.”

Doc stood up and Bobo was smart enough not to try and stop him. He tucked his shirt back in where it had pulled loosen around the sides and tugged at his vest until it felt like it was sitting right on his chest. He turned after a step, to appreciate the _beauty_ of the sight before him. 

Regardless of his unpleasant personality, Bobo was an image that Doc never wanted to miss seeing.

Even now, pink-cheeked and disheveled, angry enough to make the edges of his eyes glow red and burn out like old charcoal. Even now, when Bobo’s hand was pressed flat into the table in an expression of violence just barely being held at bay. Maybe _especially_ now.

“You’re not going to let me fuck you no matter what I say?”

“Here?” Doc repeated, “I have only just barely managed to convince Wynonna and her sister that our alliance is a thing of the past. It would be foolish to allow them to discover otherwise when I can have you whenever I want.”

Bobo was _growling_ again. 

Doc reached for the door but the lock turned itself before he could even get his hand on the knob. 

“Come here.”

It was far from the nicest invitation that Doc had ever received but it was most likely the _nicest_ one that Bobo was capable of issuing at the moment. He was holding himself together with far more grace and composure than expected (really). You could only ask so much of a demon before you had to give a little in return. 

\--

Henry was as smug as a cat, taking his time about walking a few feet back across the room to stand in front of Bobo. His smile was as good as an insult, tempered only by amused crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He gathered himself up to say, “yes?” 

Bobo had let Dolls knock him to his knees in a trailer park full of humans with little brains and revenants with even smaller ones. He’d been polite about being manhandled, downright gracious about letting Dolls have his moment. He’d handled that grating smugness without so much as a twitch of disobedience. _That_ had felt like a miracle but it was easy enough to let humans get their way sometimes when you knew that no harm could come to you in the end.

Sometimes it was easier to just let things happen than it was to fight them. All the same, Bobo hadn’t _wanted_ to get on his knees for Dolls.

It was different with Henry. Even now, even when his pride was rubbed raw and his whole body was banked up like smoldering fire. His skin was _aching_ under his clothes because it remembered far better than any part of him what it felt like to be near to this man. Bobo _had_ made a fool of Henry and he had _meant_ to; he’d been more surprised at the time that it was allowed than he was now to be easing off the chair and down onto his knees on the concrete floor. 

Henry was gracious enough to manage his own belt buckles. 

An apology was one thing, but all the same it needed to be said, “the things I am going to do to you when I get out of here.”

Henry pulled his zipper down with one hand as he gingerly set his gun belt on the table with the other. His fingers slid through Bobo’s hair without any meanness, his hand curved along the shape of his head without demanding. His answer was as pleased as his hard dick, “I’m looking forward to it.”

Bobo would be a liar if he said he didn’t _enjoy_ this. Half the hell of the situation he found himself in was how much he _did_ like it. Henry knew or guessed because every single thing he’d done since he walked in had been drawing them to this moment. It was hard to know which one of them groaned louder, Henry at the first touch of Bobo’s tongue running up the length of his dick from base to tip or Bobo at the long, slow slide of Henry’s cock across his tongue and into his mouth. 

Oh hell, maybe it was both of them when his lips closed around Henry. Neither of them stood a chance at enjoying it for very long. Maybe if they weren’t putting themselves in unnecessary danger, maybe if Henry hadn’t been torturing him, maybe if they’d already fucked and this was round two.

Maybe if they had _time_ , they could make it last as long as they could stand it. Bobo would get on his knees until his jaw and his legs were _aching_ , until his beard was slicked and coated with spit and cum and Henry was all but falling over begging for a reprieve. They’d never done it like, never done this for more than a matter of minutes as quick as a kiss leading to something else.

“Fuck,” Henry gasped. His hand slapped against the table just inches from where Bobo’s arm was stretched across it. His hips were jerking forward, driving his cock in deeper but not nearly as fast, not as deep, not as _hard_ as Bobo could have taken it. It was a tease as sure as the whole damn event had been. “Fuck,” Henry gasped again, “ _Bobo_.”

It was a warning that wasn’t necessary because it was hard not to notice how close Henry was when he was sucking down the taste of him. He could have kept going, and he _wanted_ to; he wanted to know if he could get off with just the weight of a dick in his mouth and the pressure of his own hand pushing down against his cock. 

But Henry made a noise like he was been _murdered_ as he heaved a breath that sounded like, “you have to stop.”

Maybe he did _this_ time. Bobo licked his lips as he scrubbed his beard clean on his undershirt. He lifted himself back up into the chair as Henry did his best to catch his breath and tuck his dick back into his pants. 

“Feel better?” Bobo asked. 

Henry was _smiling_ with his face blotchy and red and his whole body loose as an old rubber band. If they were somewhere more private, he might have been setting himself up for a nap rather than strapping his gun belt back onto his skinny hips. “I am going to punch you in the face,” he said when he meant, I feel fantastic. “Otherwise there might be some questions about what we’ve been doing in this room.”

“I’ll hit you back.”

\--

Waverly wasn’t going to do it. She was _not_ going to go down the hallway. She’d been repeating it to herself so long that she was even starting to believe it. Of course, all the while she was starting to really think she really wasn’t going to march down the hall, she was (in fact) marching down the hall. 

Still, it sounded exactly like her. The thing where she didn’t kick open the door to the interrogation room and demand what game Bobo was playing _exactly_. 

It sounded so much like something she would do that she had to take a minute with her hand on the knob taking deep breaths and reminding herself that she didn’t always have to be the person that everyone else thought she was. Maybe she was the nicest person in Purgatory and maybe she wasn’t exactly as aggressive as Wynonna, but that didn’t mean that she was weak or that she wasn’t brave enough to open this door.

She turned the knob and shoved her body into it and the door opened so forcefully she almost fell into the room rather than stomping in. She was working on looking braver and meaner than she was (and doing a very good job of it) so that it took her a moment to realize that the men--

That was the more than just one, more than just Bobo, in fact Bobo _and_ Doc Holliday, plural number of persons--

In the room didn’t even care about all her effort. No, Bobo had Doc shoved up against a wall with his head tipped and his teeth bared, growling viciously like an animal with his eyes glowing red and his face twisted out of shape. The table was dragged after him, the cuff holding him in place was straining under the effort, digging into the skin of his hand where it was pulled halfway off. 

Doc had the barrel of goddamn gun pushed into Bobo’s chest like it was going to do anything at all to him except piss him off. 

“What the hell!” Waverly shouted.

Doc’s eyes moved without a single inch of his body following along. He was looking at her like he was embarrassed to be found there. His face was red as a fresh handprint slapped so sharply against his skin it raised the edges. 

Bobo turned his head to look at her as the violence bled out of his eyes. He smiled with bruised lips and bright pink teeth. There was blood caught in his beard and a feral snarl in his voice as he stepped back and gave Doc the space to slide away from him. “I didn’t see you there,” Bobo said. He dipped low enough to pick up his chair and set it upright again.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Waverly demanded.

Doc ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed his hat off the floor. He looked _offended_ to be asked. So offended he could barely think of an answer as he shoved his fingers into the waist of his pants to tuck his shirt back in. “There was a matter of unpaid debts and it is not often that _Bobo_ is without his pack of mongrel demon friends.” 

“Get out!” Waverly snapped at him, “do you know what Dolls would do if he saw you in here? Get _out_.”

Doc put his hands up in surrender as he stepped sideways past her and strode off down the hall without a single care in the world.

Without him in the room, it was only Bobo leaning on his elbows on the table, looking at her the way you looked at a puppy waiting to be adopted. Even before she tried to open her mouth to say _anything_ she knew it was a waste of her time.


End file.
